My Lord, Loki
by uniquefreak13
Summary: Just some random writings of me spilling my sexual frustration out for the whelmingly sexy God of Mischief, Loki.
1. He Will Lie

"Loki?" I ask quietly as I slip into the god's chambers. The thick curtains are drawn against the window so that not even the red-orange setting sun of Asgard can be seen in the room. The only source of light is a strange green glowing orb that hovers over the middle of the room, casting strange colours and shadows everywhere. Loki sits on the edge of his bed, leaning over as he rests his forearms on his knees. He doesn't even look up as I enter, closing the door lightly behind me. "I haven't seen you in a couple of days, what's going on? You haven't come down for meals, or anything…"

Slowly, I pad my way closer to him, my light shoes silent on the dark marble of Loki's floor. He yet again doesn't respond to me, only staring at the ground, hunched over. The tall man I knew was nowhere in sight as I gazed upon the shriveled version of him. He looked weak and damaged both physically and mentally, as if he were completely spent, exhausted. "You can tell me anything that happened, Loki. You know I'm always here for you."

I finally reach him, settling myself on the bed next to him, my hand light on his shoulder. His dark hair forms a curtain around his face and all I can really see of him is the slow rise and fall of his chest as he inhales and exhales without a sound. "If you don't want to tell me that's fine, I can leave if you like…" I start, trailing off slowly. This finally gets a reaction from him as Loki looks up at me. His eyes are haunted and empty, the green shine of mischief in them has disappeared, leaving them cold and unfeeling. There are deep shadows under his eyes that seem to make his face so much more sunken and pallid. His prominent cheekbones, a feature of him I had always admired, only made his face look even that more sick, but when I reached his lips is when I began to tremble.

The first thing I noticed was that his lips and the pale skin around them on his chin and under his nose were smeared with blood that looked a sickening black shade in the green light of the orb above us. But as I looked closer I could make out the thick and unruly criss-crossing lines that marred the flesh over his lips. In an instant the answer came to me as I mentally identified the zig-zagging lines. They were thread, thick, black, waxy thread that had been sewn into Loki's lips with heavy handed stitches that gave no attempt at being neat. I openly gasped at this, my eyes bulging at the sight of it. Could this be real?

Tentatively I reach out a hand and I know Loki suspects what I'm going to do, though he doesn't shy away. I cup my hand around his sunken face, letting my palm warm his skin for a few moments before lightly running my thumb along the stitches, trying to keep it from trembling as I do so. I watch as Loki winces but doesn't push me away, his empty green eyes never leaving my face. The stitches feel coarse and stiff under the flesh of my thumb, caked with blood and wiry with the strength of the string. Tears prickle in my eyes as I let my hand fall, instead grabbing onto Loki's with it.

"Who did this?" I whisper. A tear rolls its way down my cheek but I ignore it, my eyes trained on Loki.

Before me an image blurs into life, transparent, yet still visible, much like a coloured ghost, though I can instantly recognize who the person is, even before he starts to speak. I gasp in horror as the words I can't bear to hear tumble easily from the mirage's lips.

"This needed to be done, Loki," Thor tells his brother. The mirage moves as if holding Loki down. "And you know exactly why." I can't help it as I let out a strange and strangled yelp at the man's words. "You shall no longer tell lies…"

The image of Thor slowly dissipates into the air, leaving the room completely silent except for my shattered breathing that I can't seem to get under control. My entire body is shaking and the tears are coming down my face freely now. "H-how could he… Your brother… H-he did this to you…" My sentence fragments are evidence enough at my complete and utter disgust and terror at the situation. I don't even think of what I'm doing as I pull Loki into a tight hug.

"He is a monster," I whimper into Loki's ear. I'm surprised as I feel his arms curl around me, his fingers gripping tightly at the fabric of the back of my jacket. "And he shall never live this down, my Lord."

Its a few seconds before I realize Loki too is shuddering. It soon dawns on me that the shakes I feel coming from the god aren't shudders at all, they're sobs, silently wracking his body as fresh tears stream down his face as well. Loki is scared, probably just as scared as me. Because even though I could not even fathom this happening to me, just the thought of my lips being sewn shut makes me shake with fear, he has experienced it. Although I know that if I ask Loki if he is afraid, the answer will always be the same, lips sewn shut or not.

He will lie.

But I will accept it.


	2. Sincerity

"Yes, my Lord?" Idyl asks, looking up at the figure she knelt before. The throne seemed to elevate Loki miles above her, making him seem so much more threatening and positively god-like.

"I am your king," he spits at her, his poison tone making her wince. "Address me as such."

"Forgive me, my King," Idyl drawls, her voice drawing out the words longer than need be. Her sarcasm is blatantly obvious.

"Disrespect me once more, wench, and your place in my court shal be replaced in an instant," King Loki growls, sitting up threateningly in his throne. Idyl doesn't even flinch backwards, only pulls herself up to her full height, staring dangerously into the King's narrowed green eyes.

"Pray tell, King Loki," she seethes, her tone biting. "What my place in this court is."

"You are a servant," he sniffs. "Just like the rest."

Idyl stares incredulously at the man for a moment before narrowing her deep hazel eyes in anger. "You mean to say, _my King, _that after all the hours and work I put in, making sure you were to be the ruler of Asgard, after all the sacrifices I made in your name, you plan to have me as a _servant_ in your court without the slightest bit of reciprocity?"

Loki gives a cold laugh that echoes in the throne room, sending a chill down Idyl's back. "Calm yourself, slave, and fall silent. You were not permitted to speak."

"If I am to be banished from my place in this court as a slave to you then I will speak my mind, regardless of any allowances I am or am not given to speak." Idyl's tone is more dangerous and hateful than any other who had dared speak back to Loki. Her king scowled the slightest bit, finally drawing himself out of his throne to stand atop the steps in front of the woman.

"You did not let me finish," Loki's voice is a low growl. "You are no normal slave to me, Lady Idyl. You have performed your duties to me valiantly and exceptionally," he starts, looking her up and down with hunger in his emerald eyes. And because so, I plan to make you my personal concubine, the only one in all of Asgard."

Idyl gapes at the man then almost immediately, her voice rises so that it is the only sound audible in the throne room. "You mean to say that after I put my life, my freedom and my reputation on the line for you, served you, aided you, my only payment is that I get to be the golden whore of Asgard?" she screeches, barreling up the steps to Loki. "I gave all I had for you, my entire life! I made it possible for you to banish Thor to the Other-Realm and to permanently kill the All-father! It was I who controlled Heimdall so that the Midgardians could not wreak havoc here! And do not forget, I delivered the killing stroke that slew Lady Sif, and allowed you to take the throne of Asgard once and for all. Without me, you'd still be lowly Prince Loki, nearly banished, the less loved Frost Giant son of Odin!" Idyl finishes the rant while yelling in Loki's face, her nose centimeters from him as her hazel eyes glared into his own green ones.

Loki smirks at her, surprising Idyl. She'd expected words of equal rage, possibly a few threats on her life as well as a slap to the face and banishment. But Loki only smiled at her, inching forward ever so slightly, closing the gap between them minutely.

"Is this love, Lady Idyl?" he coos, his voice low in his throat. Idyl flushes a deep red and tries to back away but in seconds Loki's scepter is behind her back and Loki pulls her even closer yet. "Your selfless devotion to me, your King?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Idyl spits at him, though it is uncertain. "If I loved you would I not beg for the chance to be your glorified slut?"

"Oh no, Idyl," Loki hisses. Idyl can feel his breath all across her face. "You were always a rebellious soul. You'd play the cunning card as you are now, pretending you find the idea of being my lover repulsive. But underneath you crave me, you want me…" He pauses, his mouth now by her ear, his whisper sending shivers down Idyl's spin. "You need me…"

"No…" Idyl protests though her voice is weakened by her attempt to keep her voice from being breathy.

"Don't argue with your King," Loki demands, though his voice is a purr instead of a bark. "Tell me you need me, wench."

"I need you, my Lord," Idyl gasps, not even remembering to call him her "King."

"Very good," Loki praises, taking a step backwards towards his throne, pulling Idyl along with him. "Now tell me more."

"What do you want to hear?" she asks immediately, her voice soft though he can hear her perfectly in the large room.

"Everything," Loki says with a smirk, tossing his scepter aside and sitting in his throne. Idyl tries not to notice how he sits with his legs wide apart, though it is nearly impossible not to.

Without quite knowing what she's doing, Idyl inches her way towards Loki, slowly, step by step. As she approaches, she slips off the deep orange cape attached to her armor at her shoulders, letting it flutter to the floor, down the steps in front of the throne. Loki watches as she methodically begins to slip her arms out of the golden wrist guards, plate by plate of her armor coming off until she's right in front of him, all that's left being her meek garments worn under her armor: a thin long sleeved shirt and a sheer pair of leggings. She stands before her Lord, not quite knowing what she's doing, and talks to the King.

"There is no other besides you, my Lord," she says quietly, averting her eyes yet darting back to look at his every once in a while. "All that matters in this realm, this world, this universe, is you, Loki Odinson."

He hisses lightly but stops as she makes her way closer to him, closing the distance between herself and the throne. Loki doesn't stop her as she slowly climbs atop him, straddling him around his waist, settling herself lightly on his hips. Idyl leans closer to Loki, their faces practically touching at this point. Breathily, she asks "Is this what you wanted, my Lord?"

For once, the god is speechless, his silver tongue turning to lead in the moment. Idyl presses her chest against his, feeling the strangely nervous rise and fall of his breathing in sync with her own. "Because if you'd prefer me to cease, I will. I am your glorified slut and nothing else. I am at your total command."

"So that's what this is to you, then?" he asks her, pushing her away the slightest bit. "You're just following orders. This is just you fulfilling your duty to the end."

"Why, yes," Idyl replies, cocking her head inquisitively. "What did you expect?" She analyzes his face as Loki turns a light shade of pink. "My Lord…?"

"You are a minx," he spits at her, shoving her backward. Quickly Idyl loses balance, slipping off Loki onto the cold, hard floor.

"I am your slut," she growls back. "This is how you wanted me, is it not? At your every whim, cowering and subordinate to you even though you know I am the closest to being your equal than anyone ever can be."

Loki flushes and even deeper shade of pink, nearing almost red had it not been for his pale skin. "My equal? Don't be ridiculous, Idyl."

She narrows her eyes at him, analyzing him silently; his small gestures, the flush still creeping across his cheeks, the choice of words he'd been using… Idyl suddenly smiles, more of a smirk than anything, and Loki immediately looks suspicious.

"Speak, wench."

"So you say I was just 'following order'?" she asks. "And that I'm a 'minx'?" Idyl gives a cruel laugh, noticing how Loki's flush goes even deeper. Idyl stands, looking Loki straight in the eye as she speaks. "Is this love, Loki?"

He scoffs though it is unconvincing. "Don't be ridiculous, you mewling quim," he snaps.

Idyl gives yet another laugh, this more cruel than the last. "So somewhere along the way, my Lord fell in love with me, and he knew he could never have me fairly so he made me his personal wench. Just like any other princess story, isn't it Loki?"

"Don't you dare insult me in my own thrown room, woman," he barks at her, sitting up forcibly in his throne. "You can verbally attack at much as you like but do not forget who holds the real power here."

"Oh," Idyl replies seductively, striding forward to push Loki harshly into the back of his throne. "I haven't," she tells him as her lips crush against his. Instantly her hands are under his helmet, pushing it off, leaving it to clatter to the floor as she knots her fingers into his hair wildly. Responding to the kiss, Loki grabs her around the waist, fitting her into her initial position, naturally grinding his hips against her own. Idyl's hands leave Loki's hair, quickly slipping him out of his heavy leather over coat, running her hands across his chest, aching to feel his real flesh beneath. As if reading her mind Loki too begins to slip off his armor, all that was left being his pants, though they were closely fitted enough to his body that Idyl barely even needed them off to get a good idea of what lie underneath.

"Is this what you want?" she asks between kisses, her breath ragged and fast to catch up with the excitement. Loki's hands are rough as they explore her body though she only moans lightly in pleasure.

"No…" growls as his mouth is now hot on her neck. Idyl arches her back instinctively, not quite knowing how to react. A small whimper escapes her throat and Loki laughs against the flushed skin on her exposed neck. "Not unless it is sincere, Idyl."

Laughing, Idyl gently grabs Loki's face, pulling it from her neck to face her, with her fingers playing across the contours of his cheekbones. Her hazel eyes searched in his green ones, seeing raw emotion playing out in them. "Trust me, my Lord," she purred, caressing his cheek lightly. "This is sincere."


	3. Mischief

AN: OH MY GODDDD. Okay, I'm so freaking sorry I haven't updated in like a month. I was grounded for a while because of something stupid I put up on Facebook, and so my laptop was taken away from me and I couldn't post anything new. This is something I wrote up with an idea to continue it, but instead scrapped the part that was supposed to come after. If this is well enough liked I might think up a new ending to it. Read, Review, and Enjoy :D

Mischief

Mischief is not a complicated thing, which is something Loki knew from a very young age. Mischief could simply be annoying the warriors as they were training for Asgard's army, or grating on the nerves of your older brother while he was trying to entertain his friends. But Loki grew to know that Mischief could be more than that, as well. Mischief could be sabotaging an opponent to ensure your victory. Mischief could be spreading a disastrous rumor throughout the courts of Asgard. But Mischief for Loki had escalated far beyond that since his brother's near crowning as King of Asgard. To Loki, Mischief had now become evil.

Of course, the god hadn't seen it as evil. In Loki's mind his ploys and plots were simply ways to achieve his overall goal. Loki wanted to be loved, something all living creatures can ultimately relate to. Had Loki not grown up in the overlapping and demeaning shadow of his brother, Thor, Loki might've turned out different, might've turned out... Good.

But some will argue Nature against Nurture. Some will claim that your fate is decided before you can even walk or talk. Some will convince you that your nature, your essence, is unchangeable. These people will have you believe that arrogance is permanent, that darkness will never see the light. These people claim evil is everlasting.

The All-Father is not one of these people.

In the face of Thor's blights, the All-Father did not merely shrug off the Thunder God's actions as a part of his nature. Actions were taken as a way to ensure the almost King of Asgard had learned his lesson. And, in Thor's case, these actions, the loss of his powers and banishment to Earth, were enough to cleanse the god's soul, to make him worthy enough to wield the weapon he had once used to slay.

And although the All-Father has made quite a few mistakes regarding parenting, Odin is not a dull man. The ruler of Asgard must be especially vigilant to rule an entire realm, and thus, no details escape the All-Father's notice. It is as plain a difference between Valhalla and Hel to Thor and Loki, and the All-Father knows this, better than anyone.

Odin has seen these two boys grow up; he has seen the way they learned to handle the same difficulty or task, nearly always implementing different strategies to accomplish their means. Thor was always about brute force while Loki preferred the subtle touch of magic. The two Odinsons were easily as different as night and day.

So why did the All-Father find it appropriate to grant them the same punishment for different crimes?

That was the real question on the mind of all as Loki was banished to Midgard, although none dared to speak it lest they face the All-Father and his unimaginable wrath.

A small crowd was present at the gates of Asgard as the entourage made their way across the Bifrost, riding upon steeds of mind boggling speed. Leading the group was Thor and Odin, both with their heads held high as if they both were the ruler of Asgard. In the middle, situated between Lady Sif and Fandral, was Loki, the war criminal from his attack on Midgard. In the back rode Volstagg and Hogun, the two remaining members of the Warriors Three. The 7 of them rode in near silence to the edge of the Bifrost, which had since been repaired from Loki's previous plot to take over Asgard.

Heimdall, the watchful guardian of the realm, stood waiting as the group approached. His golden eyes traced the well-known faces of the most powerful few in Asgard, looking them over without a single expression flickering over his face. When the group reached him and dismounted, only then did Heimdall give a single nod, acknowledging the All-Father.

"Do you fare well, Heimdall?" asks Odin, his voice resonating the barest bit in the entrance of the Bifrost's golden chamber. The rest of the sound was lost in the stretching star-filled expanse of space around them.

"Well enough, All-Father," came Heimdall's deep and slow reply. "You have, no doubt, decreed it time?"

"Indeed," confirmed Odin with a short but firm nod. "It is time." Looking to his left Odin addressed Thor. "And you are sure your comrades in Midgard are expecting Loki?"

"Indeed, Father," boomed the Thunder God. "The Iron Man and Captain Rogers have agreed to meet Loki at the drop off point and grant him the help he may require to, as Captain Rogers put it, 'stay afloat' while in the human realm."

"Good, then we shall waste no time." Turning slowly yet sharply Odin spun to face Loki, who looked positively livid in the light of recent and coming events.

"Loki Odinson." The God of Mischief scowls at the name but doesn't interrupt the All-Father. "As the youngest son in my house you have failed to fulfill your duties as the second predecessor to the Asgardian throne. After nearly destroying Jotunheim, fleeing the Realm, and attacking Midgard, your punishment has been chosen." Loki doesn't even attempt to hide his scoff, causing Sif to glare dangerously at him.

"You will be stripped of your powers and of your title as a god of Asgard. As a mortal you will be banished to Midgard where you will remain until your lesson has been learned." The All-Father gives a hard look to the biological son of Laufey, his one eye narrowing in focus and intensity. "Do you understand?"

"Better than you can even fathom," the raven haired trickster answered cheekily, a little smirk playing along his lips. Thor tensed at this but relaxed instantly with a sideways look from Odin.

"Then it is done." Odin waves his hand slowly before Loki, almost as if wishing him goodbye. Yet Loki can feel his power being sapped from him, almost as if he had a wound that was slowly leaking blood.

"Farewell, brother," Thor called out as Loki walked past him and into the chamber of the Bifrost. After inserting his sword, Heimdall seems to take a step back as the chamber fills with lightning. One second Loki is visible, just barely, through the flashes. The next, he is gone.

The God of Mischief disappeared without a trace.


	4. Loki's Dirty Whispers

AN: Okay, so this isn't actually a story or a fic or anything, but on Tumblr this this blog, Loki's Dirty Whispers, where people submit things that they imagine Loki whispering in their ears and the mod but them up all nice on awesome Loki pictures. Instead of being creative and inserting these Loki quotes I wrote into some sort of story, I decided to dump them all in a little chapter/doc thing. If anyone wants me to explain one or to expand on one into a little one shot I'd be glad to, just drop me a line or a review. Please enjoy :D

Loki's "Dirty" Whispers

"My heart was shattered by Odin and my 'brother', crushed beyond repair with a fake love that they assumed would be enough. But you, mortal, you will piece my heart back together, do you understand? You are going to make me whole again. Why? Because I am your lord, and you were made to be ruled."

"I aspired to be Thor's equal and you crave to be mine. Thanks to you, little human, I finally understand the perks of having power. Now kneel for your Lord."

"You want me so bad it pains you, doesn't it? Your desperation for attention is completely intoxicating. I can tell I'm going to enjoy this."

"You're fascinating for a mortal, yet you should treat that compliment lightly. Fascination can quickly lead to obsession which does not hesitate to destroy and consume those afflicted."

"I never thought it possible a mortal, a mere Midgardian like yourself, could ever share pain such as my own. But as I see you now I know it is not only possible, but mirrors the likes of my own in such strangely fascinating ways. Tell me, little human, who has wronged you? Who has made you the frail little thing kneeling before me now?"

"You are not from the lands where the tales of Asgard and my people were told in high esteem. Perhaps this once someone will have no reason to fear me, having never heard of the monster parents tell their children about at night."


	5. Trading Mistakes

AN: This was inspired by one of my favorite songs, Trade Mistakes by Panic! At the Disco, even though I'm so used to associating that song with Dick Grayson, aka Robin/Nightwing/Batman. I have a few more writings like these, short and in this same style, although they're inspired by and written with Tom Hiddleston instead of Loki. If anyone wants me to post the Tom writings on here I'll be glad to just stick them in this story. Enjoy.

Trading Mistakes

The gala was crowded as the slight woman made her way through the dancing and chatting guests. She looked uncomfortable in her silken scarlet dress. She looked beautiful as well, no doubt, her smooth olive skin showing all down her back as the dress draped down to rest at her hips, then settle gracefully to the floor. But this was not her element, and the couples and friends around her could tell she didn't belong. A waiter passed by with a tray of red wine, the woman accepting a glass with slightly trembling fingers.

A light sensation down her arm alerts her to someone's presence, and she bites her lip in an attempt to remind herself not to get her hopes up. But as she turned to see the man who had delicately graced her skin with the side of his hand she couldn't help it as a large smile broke across her face.

"You're here," she said, her voice broken and nervous with the slightest undertone of excitement, of anticipation.

"Of course I am," the man replies condescendingly. Taking the glass of wine from her hands he downs it in two gulps, a look of disgust crossing his face as the man sets the glass back down on a passing waiter's tray, as if he'd known the worker was going to be strolling by right at the moment. "Of all the things mortals have gotten wrong, you'd think they at least make decent alcohol…"

With gentle yet forceful hands, the man pulls the woman to him, his hands resting one on the bare skin of her back, the other on the side of her neck, his palm being warmed by her skin as his thumb slowly traced her jawline. She shivers at his touch as the chill from his hands travels through her body.

"I didn't think this was your kind of place…" The woman trails off as they start to dance. Her breaths begin to come in nervous little gasps as he leads her around the room. She can feel people's eyes on the two of them, everyone wondering who the tall, handsome, dark-haired man was, dancing with the invisible woman in the red dress.

"Am I not meant to assimilate with the mortals?" Ignoring the nervous feeling in her stomach, the woman looks up at the man. She realizes too late it was a mistake, as she is pulled into his brilliant green eyes, transfixed by the look she sees in him. In an instant that "look" is identified in her mind: Mischief. Trickery. A flicker of evil and manipulation and the look of a liar passes over his gaze, yanking the woman from his trance. In his arms she's trembling and shivering, but he takes no notice in this, smirking a little as he runs his hand up and down her spin, chuckle as shudders run through her body from his cool touch.

"Besides…" he murmurs, leaning close to her ear as he does so. He knows the sensation of his cool breath on her neck will drive her crazy. "I enjoy piquing the interest of so puny a race. These humnas have never been graced with the presence of a legitimate god in their sickeningly short lifetimes. In some ways I'm doing them a favor…" But as the timid woman looks back up into the face of a god, she only sees the presence of a broken monster, scared to death of himself and the misfortunes he always seemed to bring upon those he once thought he cared for. The woman can't help but see past his façade to the man inside he so desperately hides, as if his weaknesses would destroy him if anyone ever knew of them.

"_But I know who you are underneath,_" thinks the woman as the man smirks down at her once more. "_I know you better than you'll ever know, Loki…_"


End file.
